


Braving the Storm

by Peacockery



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alive Georgie Denbrough, Alternate Universe, Beginning of a Beautiful Friendship, Clowns, Fluff, Friendship, Innocence, alternate beginning, sympathetic monsters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 04:41:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14709275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peacockery/pseuds/Peacockery
Summary: "You look like a nice boy."Also known as the beginning we all secretly wished for.





	Braving the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> I've seen plenty of blogs and online discussions from fans wondering what an alternative version of IT would look like if Georgie survived and befriended Pennywise. I love the story for its horror brilliance, but I've also been in that boat of thought sometimes. x3
> 
> The beginning section is a mix of the 2017 version and its dialogue with the actual setup and exchange in the book (tweaked differently with my own descriptions to not infringe on copyright). I wanted to pay tribute by using both sources (And maybe a bit of the 1990 version as well) in a different twist. The rest is just my musings on Georgie being the darling we never got to truly see.

“Hi, Georgie.”

Georgie blinked and squinted into the darkness. He could hardly put to pieces what he was seeing; it was like something from a silly joke he heard on the playground, or a gag from one of those funny movies where magic was natural and animals could talk. If he had been many years older, he still would not have believed what he saw in the darkness of that drainpipe. But he wasn’t older. He was only six.

There was a clown in the drain, staring back at him. The light was too dim to make everything out, but it was plentiful enough for Georgie to take in the shapes and colors. It was so obviously a clown, just like the ones he had seen on TV or saw on posters for the circus. In fact, it looked like a cross between Ronald McDonald and those stuffy old rich folks in the french fairy tale his teacher had been reading to him at school. The face of the clown in the storm drain had the same rich fire in puffs that reminded Georgie of Bozo, with the same white face that had crisp red markings along his lips and nose that looked so similar to Ronald. But the two red streaks that crossed over the clown’s eyes and trickled down to his ruby lips made him look like he had been crying blood from his place in the sewers, and for that Georgie couldn’t find fault. If he was stuck down there, he too would have felt miserable. Minus the blood.

Georgie was almost expecting a string of balloons or a party favor to go along with the clown’s ensemble, but he did see his paper boat sitting in the clown’s hand, almost out of sight under the water’s torrent.

“You look like a nice boy. I bet you have a lot of friends.” The clown purred. Georgie blinked at him, swallowing dryly.

“Three, but my brother’s my best.”

He watched droplets of water lingering on the lurker’s ivory chin. One quivered stubbornly on the cusp of his bottom lip.

“Where is he?” The clown asked sweetly.

Georgie frowned, remembering the loneliness he felt in leaving his brother alone in bed with pneumonia. Bill would have loved to be here, sailing the boat he helped make. “In bed. Sick.” He mumbled tensely. He watched the clown hum for a moment, with his eyes twinkling a moment later. Something about his words sparked promise in the stranger.

“I bet I could cheer him up! And give him a balloon.”

It was a sweet offer, but Georgie didn’t know if Bill honestly would want one. Bill was much older, and only young kids seemed to enjoy balloons more. He decided not to answer.

“Want your boat back, Georgie?” The clown persisted, smiling. It looked almost like a pout, aided by large puppy blue eyes.

Georgie smiled back. He just couldn’t stop himself- it was the sort of warm smile that warranted another.

“I sure do!”

The clown giggled, flashing a pair of long buck teeth. “He sure does! That’s sweet. Very sweet!...and how about a balloon for your troubles?”

The little boy in the yellow raincoat eagerly reached his hand out, but paused. Reluctantly, he pulled his hand back while adjusting uncomfortably in his hunch on the sopping pavement. 

“My dad told me I’m not supposed to take stuff from strangers.”

The clown’s gaze wandered as he nodded, parroting the sentence under his breath. Then, his smile snapped back along with his gaze. “How very wise of him.” His eyes remained in their soft baby blue state, reminding Georgie of his mother’s as well as Bill’s. It was a very comforting color, he thought. The clown spoke up again, inching a bit closer to the edge.

“Well, allow me to introduce myself.” He cooed. “I’m Pennywise, the Dancing Clown!” He shook as if in a shiver at the exaggerated word, sounding off a small series of jingle bells hidden somewhere on his outfit that prompted a soft giggle from the little boy. “Pennywise, meet Georgie,” He cupped a white gloved hand to his chest, and extended it. “Georgie...meet Pennywise. And now we know each other, yes?”

Georgie smiled, leaning in too in order to peer into the darkness. “How did you get into the sewer?”

“Storm just blew me awaaaaaay,” Pennywise whimpered, looking around at the gushes of chilled water smacking the sides and mouth of the drain, “Blew the whole circus away…” He looked to Georgie again, smile widening even more hopefully. “Can you smell the circus, Georgie?” He pressed.

Georgie blinked, and leaned in again. He took a big whiff of the stormy air, but he didn’t smell any of the guck and yuck of the sewers...he smelled again, and he could pick it up! He smelled it! Crisp roasted peanuts, with the light sting of vinegar. He could find the traces of warm funnel cakes and sugary candy, of the tang to lemonade and even that musky footpath smell of wet straw and animal dung...his nose wrinkled once reality started wafting back, and the clown’s eyes widened. Georgie could smell the rotten earth of the pipes and trash no doubt below the man’s feet.

“You bet I can smell it.” The child replied earnestly while wrinkling his nose.

“There’s peanuts...and cotton candy.” Pennywise cooed, confirming it all. Georgie thought it was strange, but figured the clown just wanted to make more conversation. And so it seemed, as Pennywise the Dancing Clown continued with the list. “Hot dogs…” Georgie swore he could hear the faint chiming of circus music down in the pits of the pipes. 

“Aaaaaaand?” Pennywise’s voice knocked him out of his thought.

Georgie pouted for a moment, not happy at smelling the wet sludge aroma again but did it anyway to not upset the not-stranger. 

“...Popcorn?”

“Popcorn!” Pennywise bounced once, delighted. “Is that your favorite?”

The child beamed. It sure was. “Uh huh!”

The clown couldn’t contain his excited giggling. His next words bled into it. 

“Mine too! Because they pop!” He stopped again to whine happily under his breath. Keeping his eyes on Georgie, he started to bounce lightly again with each following “pop!” he made after. Georgie started to giggle again, returning the noises as he and the clown shared the moment together. Once the laughter died, Pennywise looked pleased.

“Want your boat, Georgie?”

Oh yeah, he had almost forgotten.

Georgie watched the toy itself rise up from the depths, held in a large white glove that reminded him of the ones that his favorite cartoon characters wore. There was more to the clown’s suit that he could see now, and Georgie was astounded that so many frills and lace were not sopping wet by the rain. “Yeah.” He replied simply.

“And a balloon?” Pennywise’s eyes twinkled again. He was really milking the exchange, but his audience didn’t seem to mind. “I have them in many colors, but red is my favorite…”

“Do they float?” Georgie asked innocently. He still didn’t see any.

“Why yes, they do!” 

He thought for a moment, looking between the clown’s hopeful face and the boat sitting so tantalizingly on upon his palm. They were no longer strangers (according to the man, and Georgie had always been taught to respect the wisdom of his elders), but it still didn’t feel right just reaching in to snatch what he wanted out of another’s hand. The fact that there was a random clown standing in a flooding storm drain also was raising questions. But Pennywise the Dancing Clown looked so happy to have some company, so why would he be rude in saying no? This wasn’t like the horrid beast he envisioned in the basement back home, which lurked among nightmares and threatened to crunch his bones. Georgie mulled it over for a moment, before he reached out.

The clown’s eyes widened, gleeful.

~*~

The house was quiet by the time he returned.

Georgie leaned all his weight upon the door frame after nudging the door open, peering inside at the entryway to their house. The lamps in the parlor were dimmed, meaning that his mother had finished her playing at the family piano sometime after he had ran out. The little boy swallowed heavily and took a moment to kick his way out of his wet galoshes; they remained outside on the porch. He glanced back to beckon, but pouted in confusion upon seeing the only company he had on the welcome mat was himself.

He stepped back onto the front porch, glancing around the drenched yard and the street beyond it. Quickly remembering the door was still open, Georgie reluctantly pulled away to rush inside. Dad would kill him for letting the heat out.

He wrestled out of his slicker after dutifully locking the door, keeping his eyes peeled again for anything out of the ordinary. The house was still the same as the way it been that morning, gloomy from the storm but no less comforting. Georgie toed over to the staircase to peek up to the top, finding no signs of open doors or lingering lights. It seemed that the house itself had settled for a nap and had taken all of his family hostage with it. On a day like this, Georgie found that he didn’t mind that one bit.

A wave of relief ran through his nerves, and he smiled as he skipped noisily on the wooden floor all the way to his room. He jumped onto his bed with the paper boat in toy, giggling and rolling onto his back to really take the time to observe it under the glow of his bedside lamp.

Bill had really did a fine job on creating the boat. His folding lines were almost perfect, and Georgie envied the clean penmanship of the paper vessel’s maiden name. He hoped one day to have as nice a handwriting as Bill’s, or even his mother’s elegant swoops. His fingers carefully tapped along the waxy finish, amazed that despite the battering from the storm, his little sailboat had held up perfectly.

Georgie regarded his toy boat for a few more moments, and placed it atop his heart while he lay in his comfy bed and listened to the roar of the storm outside. He hoped that the clown was able to get dry. He couldn’t imagine how terrible it was to stand in grey water, dead leaves and Derry pee while waiting for pleasant company to show up. The child frowned, tapping his fingers against the ridges of his boat as he thought.

~*~

By the time he returned from the kitchen, Georgie had worn himself out. But as he looked down at the serving tray he carried in his small hands, he couldn’t have been more proud of himself.

The main course was the leftover pancakes his mother had made that morning, stacked clumsily atop one another and drenched in syrup and chocolate pieces. He had tried his hand at creating a silly clown face out of chopped strawberries and the last of the sugary whipping cream, watching his handiwork jiggling as he tried to quietly walk without setting anything off kilter on the plate. A big glass of milk sat next to it, stirred quickly to produce a bubbly chocolate concoction which spilled periodically onto the towelette it sat upon. Georgie sank into a slow kneel just before the door so he could place the tray upon the muffling carpet. His hands carefully rotated the knob and he strained himself so hard in opening the door slowly that his arms ached in the end. He pawed loose bangs out of his face while peering outside into the maelstrom on Witcham street.

The tray was left outside on the welcome mat.

Georgie stood by the entryway window for a few minutes after, watching for any signs of white and red. His frown grew heavier as he began to pull connections between a lost clown and a stray cat; his eyes started to sting as the saddening thought of being alone and soaked started to tug at his small heart.

He thought and pondered while watching the terrible weather, eventually coming to a mental debate with himself on whether or not he should run up and check in on his brother. Bill was smart and always knew what to do. Georgie trusted him completely. But...Bill was also still very much sick, and his parents would scold him for disturbing his siblings. Then again, they would also be angry if they found out he was leaving food for any strays or maybe a wandering bum, so Georgie ultimately swallowed down his anxiousness and reluctantly walked back to his room.

The rest of the evening was spent beneath the covers with his favorite books, but Georgie dedicated more time to staring at the circus print along his wallpaper than at the colorful pictures in his stories. He looked between the happy dancing animals and the goofy clowns, thinking back once again to Pennywise. It wasn’t fair.

That storm wasn’t fair, blowing the whole circus away.

When sleep finally took him away too, Georgie found it to be restless and uncomfortable. The barking of the wind outside brought in heavy crashes of branches against the house, but when the rage of nature settled for a few small hours did he finally succumb to something of a peaceful rest. He dreamed of talking bears and a town filled with people who only spoke backwards, but none of that was as surreal as the frequent and persistent chiming that seemed to resonate from anywhere and everywhere at once. It kept growing louder the longer he dreamed, until the boy become so agitated by the distracting noise that he groggily blinked awake and stared at the closet across his bed.

Something blurry and grey was sitting in front of it.

A spell of fright burned through him, jerking him fully awake as he sat upright and flung his sheets one way along with his favorite stuffed dog in the other direction. Georgie furiously rubbed at his face, blinking again as the shape became more crisp before his very eyes.

“You made it!” he almost squealed, to which he clasped his hands over his mouth as Pennywise grinned. The clown was sitting with his legs crossed right in front of the dresser, somehow completely dry despite the elements outside. In his lap was the tray that had been offered to him, as he was gobbling down the drippy pancakes with a gusto that matched Georgie’s whenever his favorite breakfast was served.

“You forgot your balloon.” His guest chimed, wagging his elbow like a chicken wing to showcase the red sphere tied to it. Georgie watched it bounce, but he couldn’t contain his excitement much longer. The little boy hopped off of his bed and sprinted over, almost tumbling right into the visitor as he stood up on his toes to fully wrap his arms around the clown’s neck. Pennywise really did smell like the circus, and he was as warm as the fiery color of his hair. The clown was about to crack a joke about the spilled pancake now squashed between them, but he instead decided it was much more fun to loop his own large arms around the fellow not-stranger while snorting out a light cackle.

He suddenly wasn’t so angry at the weather anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Questions, requests or just wanna dork around? Check out my blog. :)
> 
> socks-on-parade.tumblr.com


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